St Vincent

Sunday 8th February 2009, day 204. 13° 14’.84 N, 061° 16’.27 W. Wallilabou, St Vincent

We left the peace of Bequia and sailed the ten miles up to St Vincent, the capital island of this group. We realised pretty quickly that we were in a different place, as soon as we got into a maxi (a shared minibus taxi / bus), and were hurtled off to our destination: probably Kingstown, unless it turned out to be a premature arrival at the pearly gates. The road along the south coast is as full of steep bends as the Nice Corniche, and they are navigated by the maxis with verve, faith and a nice appreciation of centrifugal forces.

Up in the hills behind the coast, the landscape is a stunning mixture of harsh volcanic ridges, covered with lush forest, and, in the valleys, cows, goats and fields of beans and bananas. We ended up at the Montreal Gardens, where a New Zealander, Charles Vaughn, has created a beautiful tropical garden. So many plants there we recognise from the UK, whether struggling as annuals in borders, or sold for vast amounts in florists. Here they are all in their natural environment, ten times the size we are used to seeing them, bursting with life and colour.

St Vincent has an unfortunate, and probably undeserved, reputation among yachties for aggro and violence, so we tread carefully here, and are less adventurous than we have been elsewhere. We wanted to walk up the side of La Soufriere, its 3,000 ft volcano, which is said to have a precipitous crater – last active in 1979 – but given that there have been a couple of attacks on its slopes, decided to take a guide – which would have cost US$125 – far more than we can afford. So we didn’t go at all, and the maxi drivers and the owners of the village shops where we would have bought our lunch and cold drinks all lose out – as of course do we.

Which meant instead we went up the coast to the world famous Wallilabou bay. World famous? You’ve never heard of it? Perhaps not, but you may well have seen it: look again at the photos at the top of the blog … think of Johnny Depp … yes, the Pirates of the Caribbean series was filmed here. All the scenery they built has been left here: backless warehouses which from behind are only held up with scaffolding, a pile of coffins, a gibbet …

For better photos than I could take, see http://www.wallilabou.com/pirates.html

As some of the only people in the world who haven’t seen any of the films, all of this was a bit lost on us, to the great disappointment of the boat boys, who in between trying to persuade us to pay them to take us to visit a tiny waterfall five minutes’ walk away, or to buy a block of ice that would fill our fridge, wanted us to spot which of them had been extras in the film so they could sell us their autographs.

It took a while for it to sink in, but once they realised we genuinely hadn’t seen the film, a consensus developed – there would have to be a showing, for us, that night. So later on that evening, you would have found us in that salubrious eaterie, Ronnie’s Golden Spoon, nibbling plantain crisps, and then feasting on grilled tuna and chips, avidly watching the 18” screen six foot above our heads, on which pirates cavorted gleefully, ignoring the chattering of Ronnie’s friends who had come to see the show, standing in a deep circle behind our two seats.

The film was a hoot, much funnier than we’d expected, with the doe-eyed Johnny Depp coming through blood and thunder with his eyeliner and mascara unscathed, but it all went at such a pace that we still couldn’t honestly say we recognised anybody, or even anything from the village. We’ll just have to watch it again.